Chapter 1

Greg sighed and groaned into the mouth of the women who lay beneath him. Her tongue was wrapped around his as her fingers were busy unbuckling his belt. Greg groaned again as her searching fingers touched more than his belt.

Just then his cell phone went off. He swore viciously and rolled to the edge of the bed. Grabbing it up and looking at the number he swore again. "I gotta take this. I'm so sorry." As his gaze returned to her, she pouted. He took in her luscious curves, full blond hair spread out over the pillow and flat stomach. "Oh, I'm really, really sorry. Trust me. I'm really sorry," he groaned again, rubbing a quick hand through his spiky hair, then answered his phone. It was Catherine. She needed him in early to a murder scene. He took down the address quickly and hung up.

"I have to go," he explained.

The woman shrugged. "Your loss," she replied in a husky voice.

Greg closed his eyes and forced himself to drop his feet over the edge of the bed. "No. Trust me. I'm really sorry." He opened his eyes and spotted his shirt draped over his shoes. He quickly grabbed it up, shoving his head through and pulling it down.

She sighed. "That's what they all say."

Bethany Henderson was way out of his league and chances of her ever having the same brain deficiency that had led them to her bedroom were slim. Greg growled as he shoved his wallet and cell into the pockets of his jeans. It wasn't fair.

But he'd asked for field training, he reminded himself. And getting calls like this came with the territory.

But still...Bethany Henderson...

After tying his shoes he rolled back onto the bed for one last lingering kiss. "I promise, next time, no phones," he whispered into her hair next to her ear. He inhaled deeply the earthy scent of her.

She slid her hands over the seat of his jeans, abruptly pulling him down into her. He was briefly surprised at her strength as his breath caught and all the blood left his brain. He flirted with the idea of staying a while longer; telling Cath that he'd gotten stuck in traffic. There was always a traffic jam somewhere in Vegas.

But he knew better. If he wanted to become more than a lab rat he needed to do this.

But Bethany Henderson...

He pealed himself away from her and headed for the door, not looking back least he be tempted again. "I promise I'll call," he called back to the bedroom as he opened the front door.

"Hey! Greg?"

He paused. "Yeah?" He glanced back toward the bedroom, his eyes catching the shelves on the wall next to the doorway loaded with trophies and ribbons. Most had some sort of swimming emblem on them.

"Tell that cute guy that you work with how much fun we had. Or almost had..."

Greg's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

She appeared in the doorway of the bedroom and struck a pose. Greg swallowed hard. "Hey. I know how you guys talk. What's his name?" She paused. "Nick. That's it. He turned me down once. I just want him to know what he's missing...and what you were smart enough to pick up."

Greg licked his lips nervously. "Uh, sure, Bethany. I gotta go." Quickly he turned, shut the door and headed for his car.

As he slid behind the wheel, he was forcibly reminded of how well Bethany had been enticing him. He reflected morosely that he was in for at least an hour of being quite uncomfortable. Fortunately, the crime scene was at least 45 minutes away so he wouldn't have to try to hide it, or face knowing looks from either Nick or Warrick. Or worse, Catherine or Sarah.

Nick. So Nicky boy had turned her down. What had he been thinking, Greg pondered as he slid into traffic the sun setting behind him. Bethany was a hostess at one of the restaurants at the Luxor. Greg had been stood up and she had come over to offer her condolences. They had gotten to talking and one thing had led to another...that had led to an invitation to Bethany's bedroom.

But that last bit about telling Nick was a little strange. An uncomfortable thought began to surface...then Greg hit his horn as a Jag cut him off and the thought vanished.

He had almost made it with Bethany Henderson...still might...

He still had a smile on his face as he reached the crime scene. He was glad he'd followed Warwick's advice and kept his kit stocked and ready in his car. Nick and Catherine were already there processing the scene.

"Hey, Greg!" Catherine called, looking up from a body lying sprawled in the dried grass in front of a ramshackle little house. "Good to see you! Go on inside and help Nick. I got this covered."

"Sure thing," he called back and diverted his steps toward the open front door dodging the swarming police officers.

Nick was in the bedroom swabbing the stains on the sheets. "Hey, Grego! Looks like this guy saw some action before he died. These samples are pretty recent."

Greg smiled and opened his mouth to make a comment but then remembered how Bethany had wanted him to mention there little get together. It wasn't as much fun having been told to brag about his encounter so he shut his mouth again. "Where do you want me to start?"

Nick straightened up and looked at Greg with dark eyes. "How 'bout the bathroom? A guy this busy...there should be evidence of a partner somewhere."

"Sure," Greg agreed quickly. He popped his head in first and looked around. The bathroom was small. Bathtub and shower combo unit, sink and toilet with barely enough room to shut the door, all done in pink and black tile. Greg winced. House was probably built in the 50's. He got to work.

Soon he had done all he knew to do, so he packed up his kit and returned to the bedroom. Nick was still working the room, checking the carpet for anything that might tell them who had killed the man in the yard.

"So? Find anything?" Nick asked as he gingerly picked up a hair with his tweezers and placed it into a plastic baggie.

"Oh, yeah!" Greg grinned. "Unmistakable signs of female. But someone went to great pains to hide it. There's an oily residue in the bathtub, which if I'm not mistaken, is probably scented bath oil. There is a burn mark on the tile in the corner of the tub, which I will bet comes from a candle and I found a plastic applicator from a tampon that had rolled behind the toilet. But no extra toothbrush, no bottles of bath oil or any candles anywhere and no box of tampons under the sink."

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "Nice work. How did you think about the candle thing?"

"I had a girlfriend that used to like to take candlelight baths so I joined her one evening," Greg bragged. "For a month Warrick wouldn't let me live down the fact that I smelled of lavender on my shift that night."

Nick chuckled. "Hey. Did you grab the guy's razor?"

Greg frowned. "Why? We have all of his DNA outside on the lawn."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, but there's a chance our mysterious female grabbed his razor at least once to shave her legs. Could get some epifelials off it."

Now it was Greg's turn to look thoughtful. "And where did you learn that from?"

"College. Where else? Everytime my roommate's girlfriend spent the night she'd grab my razor instead of his when she showered. Drove me nuts. Have you ever tried to shave using a razor that a woman has used on her legs? Obviously not or you would remember!" Nick ruefully rubbed his clean shaven jaw. "Trust me. If you had, you'd never forget that little piece of info."

"Got ya." Greg smiled, nodded then went back into the bathroom to grab the razor. This was one of the reasons he liked Nick so much. They had an easy friendship that also included picking up little tidbits of information that were important to a guy without any of the ribbing just because he wasn't quite as experienced as the x-frat boy.

Early the next morning, just before their shift was over, Catherine popped her head into the lab and asked if either of them wanted to go catch breakfast with her. Greg agreed but Nick shook his head.

"I got a hot date," he grinned.

"Really..." Catherine drawled with a knowing smile. "Well, just make sure you get some sleep before coming in. At least an hour or two."

"I will," he promised before booking out the door.

"Who's Nick dating?" Greg asked, surprised that Nick hadn't said anything earlier.

"Don't know. Somebody new. He was saying yesterday that he'd met her at one of the clubs and she'd really made an impression...if you know what I mean," Catherine snorted. "Like it takes much."

"Ah, come on. Nick's not that easy to get into bed," Greg defended his buddy.

"And you would know?" Catherine smiled at him.

"Well, yeah! He..." Greg stopped as his brain finally caught the subtle tone of Catherine's question. "Ah...well, not that I would know personally," Greg backtracked rapidly, his face warming. "But we talk...you know."

Catherine slapped a hand onto Greg's shoulder. "Yeah. I know. I'm just giving you grief. Come on. I'm buying."

Nick groaned and surreptitiously adjusted his swim trunks as his date slid out of the warm water of the Jacuzzi and sat on the edge, looking at him with eager blue eyes. He smiled back, casually draping his muscular arms along the side of the tub. They had just spent the last hour in a serious tongue wrestling session, both in and out of the Jacuzzi, in the room she had gotten for them with her hotel discount, and he was definitely feeling the effects. He was also beginning to wonder where she was going with this. He'd been dating her for several weeks now but this was the first time it had gotten this intense. He knew where his body wanted to go, but he was a gentleman and always allowed the lady to set the pace and the parameters…regardless of what his body wanted to do. It was a good way to stay out of trouble.

The trouble was that right now his body was screaming that either he grab her, throw her onto the bed and make love to her or grab his crotch, cross his eyes and slid down into the water to be seen no more.

His brain took note that the configuration of heavily muscled arms and legs were those belonging to a swimmer, even though she hadn't mentioned it yet. Her wet hair was a deep honey color and she was well put together; round and flat in all the right places. All the right places, Nick's brain repeated as she reached back and untied her swimsuit top, letting it drop to one side.

He grinned. His hormones began doing the happy dance.

Then his cell phone went off.

A myriad of swear words flashed through his mind and for a moment he wasn't sure his legs would obey him. But he managed to leverage himself out of the tub and pad, bare footed over to the offending phone, just missing the call. Not slamming it immediately into the wall, he glanced at the number and quickly called Catherine back.

"Hey, Nick! Did you get any sleep?" came Catherine's perky voice.

"No," he growled irately.

"Welp. Too bad. 'Cause we're backed up and we have another homicide. Single, white, male, dead on his front lawn, strangled, just like the one yesterday, so I want you and Greg to handle it. I'll get there when I can. Ready for the address?"

"Yes," he snarled. She was sounding way too pleased with herself. Nick could understand why strangling was considered a crime of intimacy...because right now he'd like to strangle Catherine through the cellphone.

He took the information, flipped his phone closed, grabbed a towel and quickly began drying himself off. Then he looked back at his date who had slid back down into the Jacuzi, the bubbles from the jets gently bobbing around her breasts. He closed his eyes and counted to five.

"I have to go," he finally got out.

She pouted and got out of the tub. Nick quickly turned away from her and stripped out of his trunks and nimbly slid into his boxers. Pressing herself against him from behind Nick had to force himself to begin breathing again. She hooked her thumbs into his waistband.

"Can't I convince you to stay?" she whispered, splaying her long fingers across the fabric.

Nick gently grabbed her wrists and detached himself from her embrace. "Believe me...I wish. But I already told my boss I was on my way. I have to meet Greg there. He can't process a scene by himself just yet."

"The Greg you've told me so much about? His name wouldn't be Greg Saunders would it?" she asked. Nick nodded as he pulled on his pants. "Oh. So you're that Nick."

Nick paused in buckling his belt. "What'd you mean "that Nick"?"

She turned and slid back into the tub. "Nothing. It's out of context."

"Tell me," he insisted, tying his shoes.

"No. It's not that big of a deal and I don't want to make waves telling you something out of context!" she insisted again, trailing her fingers in the water.

"Bethany!" Nick stood.

"Fine," she looked up at him, exasperated. "It wasn't anything bad. He was just chatting at lunch one day in the restaurant with some friends and as I walked up to the table to check on them, I over heard him say that Nick sometimes babysat him too much. That he'd like some more space and more responsibility. And now I know that you're that Nick."

"Well, that's something he has to earn. What we do is too important to invite mistakes by leaving a rookie alone," Nick stated firmly.

She shrugged. "Like I said, I don't want to get him into trouble. It was just a comment between friends."

Nick smiled and grabbed his shirt and phone. "You're right. Greg's young and I'm sure he'd love to run when it's more prudent to walk. He's just going to have to be patient, just like the rest of us as we went through it. It's fine. You didn't get him into trouble."

"Good. Call me later?"

"Definitely!"